Cats on Mars
by Sireg
Summary: A story defying the popular theories on Vicious' involvement on Titan.


_Author's comments: _  
Before you start reading this story, I really love Vicious, so that might be obvious in the story. After a lot of thinking, and watching certain CB episodes, Team Sireg decided this was what may have happened. Or something similar. The story was written late february '06 and is also on dA, see my profile for the site.  
Feedback always appreciated, of course

The Van sat before him like three ancient bald vultures, plucked clean of their feathers and huddled up against the cold on their mighty gold perches.

"Vicious," One of them croaked, and Vicious' attention snapped back to his current situation. Having barely returned from war, he had been given just enough time to clean up and get some sleep before being summoned here. He bowed his head slightly in the direction of the Van, to acknowledge that he had heard them.

"We have followed your work on Titan," Another continued.

"We expect your report two days from now, but first, we have another task for you."

Vicious listened impatiently, so far they had spoken nothing about Titan, or what he'd done there, except the mission itself. That was good, maybe they didn't even know.

"You will testify against a veteran of Titan, and you will see he is convicted." The vulture paused a moment. "For your crimes."

Vicious nodded again. This had not been in the original plan, but it was only logical that someone would be framed for his spying on Titan. A servant of the Van walked up to him with a file, probably of the man he would have to help frame. They escorted him to the door as the third dried up corpse stirred.

"You know, Vicious, you have no choice in this matter."

"I understand." He managed a wry smile. "As always.' He turned around and walked through the door, through the hallways, through the building and almost through one foolish boy who placed himself in his path. He didn't stop walking until he reached his house and his bed, lonely and cold, and slept the rest of the day.

It was dark now, the only light the streetlight in front of his window. He was supposed to do something, of course, the file. He should be reading that now. There was a blinking light on his answering machine, which irritated him to no end. It hadn't been blinking when he first came in yesterday. He slowly got up and made his way to the kitchen. Some cold water in the face should wake him up, and then… Something to eat, first things first. The little red light was a beacon in his room, so he turned on the light to drive it back, only to find that the light hated his eyes, or the other way around. He hit the play button on the machine and sat back down onto the bed, the file in his hands. A shrill beep destroyed the silence, and then a female voice.

"Ah, Vicious…?"

It was Julia.

"I heard you were back. But apparently you're not, er, home yet."

Something rustled in the background, and she seemed to be saying something away from the phone.

"I'll just call you back later. I'll see you… later."

Another beep and a mechanical voice informed him that he'd heard all there was to hear. The light had stopped blinking. Julia had sounded strange somehow, nervous? Usually she wouldn't call him this soon after he'd returned. He opened the file and decided he'd have to deal with her later, as always after a mission, he had to get everything back into order. Apart from that, there was this file, and a report he rather not write.

The file itself was quite plain, a couple of photographs clipped to the loose papers, all dumped into a brown folder. He flipped through the papers and frowned. There was not enough light to read, and his eyes must have been playing tricks with him. He turned on the light on the nightstand next to his bed and pulled out a picture. It seemed to be a piture taken by the soldiers themselves, the quality was very poor, probably due to the sand. It was all in browns, as if the camera had been at the end of it's so-called life, and it showed two people in Titan uniform. Another picture was clearer, and with more color, there was no mistaking the man's blue hair on this one. Vicious grabbed the first paper of the file and started reading.

ID: T78282LAK

Name: Grencia Mars Elijah Guo Eckener

Age: 26

Suspected of espionage on the moon of Titan during the Titan war, where-

Vicious looked at the photo's again, and recognised himself as the man in the background on one of them. He cursed softly and turned back to the file. In the back was a letter to him, what he should and should not say. Reading this file stripped away all of his earlier relief, replacing it with doubt. Maybe the Van did know what had happened on that damned desert moon, and they were just torturing him. He knew he had no choice but to follow their orders, and make sure Gren got convicted… for his crimes.Vicious cursed as he read, why were they doing this? Hadn't he, the faithful lapdog of the syndicate, loyally returned home, doing everything they had asked of him? Or maybe they didn't know at all, didn't suspect a thing, and that was why they trusted him to do this, he would mercilessly send any man to prison as long as it meant he would stay out. He was thinking in circles, and was now back at the beginning, because the Van had warned him, stressed the fact he had no choice on the matter. He was driving himself crazy, and he knew it, but he took out the picture anyway, and tried to remember when it had been taken. There was a rock wall in the background, and he was looking away from the camera, but not much, he probably hadn't even noticed the picture being taken. That would explain why he didn't remember it either. From this he could assume it was fairly late in the war, when the continuous fighting and sandstorms had already worn him down. He found evidence of this in the other man's face, he looked tired, there were lines under his eyes. Vicious wondered if this picture was taken before or after Gren's breakdown, considering the determined look on the man's face and the time he'd managed to place the picture in, it was probably after.

The next day, Vicious found a letter on his doorstep, summoning him to court, with a note from the syndicate clipped to it. It simply said "know your place". Another warning, as if they hadn't made their point already. By the evening, he felt tense, caged inside his own house. He opened the door to let some air in and took a step outside into the cold. His breath was white, softly lighting up in the streetlight before cooling off and disappearing. A soft mewing drew his attention to a stray cat, climbing into a garbage can. Vicious grumbled and the cat ran off into a side alley. When did he start hating cats? He walked back inside, slamming the door shut behind him. There was too much he had to do right now, he was working himself up over the whole issue with Gren, and he still hadn't seen Julia, although she had called him again, and managed to time it perfectly so the machine took her call. This was all starting to get somewhat irritating, he could feel there was something he didn't know, but he couldn't figure out what or who it was. To try and organise his thoughts a little, he sat down and continued writing his report.

"Did you ever notice there are no animals here…?"

Gren was lying in the sand, on his cape, looking up at the brownish sandy sky. His blue hair always looked a little darker in the dust. Vicious finally sat down too, and half glared at Gren.

"I don't really go around looking for animals, Eckener."

"No really, there are absolutely no animals."

"Well, this is a desert after all." Vicious had gotten used to the other man's incessant chatter, and almost managed not to get irritated by it anymore.

"…do you think that's because of us…?" Gren was still looking up at the sky, as if the answer to his questions were up there, between the stars they could so rarely see between the sandstorms. Vicious spat out some sand, and cursed it for always getting into the most uncomfortable places possible.

"I like animals." Gren continued, almost dreamily. "Especially cats."

Vicious snorted and shook his head, and almost seriously considered raising his hands to the sky. The man liked cats.

"Need I remind you this is a desert, Gren…?" There was no response from the figure lying on the ground. Vicious looked up

"I hate cats." He felt Gren's gaze shift from the sky to him.

"Why is that…?" There was a moment of relative silence.

"…I'm allergic."

The sands rustled and the winds whispered, as Vicious got up and tried to get some of the dust off his clothes, with Gren chuckling softly at his feet, both knowing very well it was useless to try. He offered his hand to the other man and helped him up, Gren moving with a lazy grace that suddenly reminded Vicious of… a cat.

"Your love of cats has made you one of them." He mumbled, and Gren chuckled again.

"But you're not allergic to me, are you…?"

"No… We would have noticed that by now." Gren smiled and held on to Vicious' hand, pulling him along.

Vicious slowly opened his eyes. His head was on something hard, his desk, and it was uncomfortably light. He lifted his head and a soft ache crawled up his neck. It was morning and he'd fallen asleep writing that damn report. But no, when he looked at his desk he saw the report finished and printed and ready for the Van to read. That was one worry less, at least, though the falling asleep on his desk wasn't much good for his mood, not to mention the fact he hadn't heard the alarm clock and was supposed to show up in court in half an hour. His bad mood only got worse as he struggled to be in time, only to find out the many little delays on the way had caused him to be late anyway. He walked into the courtroom, some people were frowning at him or looking at their watch, and sat down somewhere in the back. A man walked up to him and asked him, quietly because the trial had already begun, if he was just an onlooker, or 'otherwise involved'. Vicious showed the man his letter and was pointed towards an area more to the front, where he as witness was supposed to sit. With a deep sigh he got up again and made sure he looked sufficiently irritated to throw off any more questions. It wasn't very difficult to keep the dark scowl on his face as he walked closer to the font of the hall, they had almost finished reading the introductions and were ready to bring up the suspect. He sat down and crossed his arms. A small door opened and a man walked out, his hands bound and wearing plain clothes. The blue of his hair looked dull, his face was pale and the lines under his eyes were still there, as they had been at the end of the war, he was in a bad shape, but it was obviously Gren Eckener, as a loud voice confirmed. The man looked rather lost, as if he didn't know what was happening, and maybe he didn't. He was, after all, going to be convicted for something he never did. Vicious looked the other way as Gren's gaze turned to the silent audience. They were telling him now what he had supposedly done, but he didn't seem to listen. The trial dragged on, both Gren and Vicious only half listening to whatever was being said, the first witnesses had come and gone, and now Vicious was called up. He saw Gren looking up, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. So far the trial had not gone well for him, but he seemed to believe Vicious could still save him. He wished he could, but not this time. This time he had no choice. The finality of what he was going to do seemed absurd, spying would get Gren into jail for twenty to thirty years, and knowing Gren, he'd be a broken man when he got out. Vicious took his place as witness number four and, for a moment, considered turning himself in. Just for a moment, before he had to crush Gren's hopes. He could feel the other man looking at him. Vicious looked back at Gren, trying to look neutral. Gren was smiling slightly, but with every question he answered, the look in the man's eyes grew more desperate, he seemed to be realising Vicious was not here to save him, but to betray him. The smile stayed, though, as if it was etched on Gren's face. When it was all done and Vicious walked out, he knew Gren was still smiling, just because he didn't know what else to do. There was a car waiting for him outside, the Van had sent it. Vicious sighed and got in, of course, the Van would always choose the worst moment, in fact, their timing was even worse than Julia's.

Back in the golden birdcage, Vicious fought the urge to curse aloud. The Van looked very pleased with themselves. Nothing seemed to be going right since he had come back, and he started to wish he had never accepted to go to that cursed war. He remained silent and waited for the Van to talk to him. In his mind, the vultures were cackling gleefully.

"Vicious." The corpse on the left rattled. "How was the trial…?"

Vicious narrowed his eyes.

"You know very well how it was."

"Is that all there is to it…?" There was a moment of strained silence and the middle corpse looked up.

"I was surprised… That there were no questions about the music box."

Vicious frowned and snarled at all three damned vultures; "What does that have to do with anything?"

It was so rare that the Van smiled, and it was always a bad sign, exactly as it was this time.

"He does not know…?"

"It appears Julia has become a weak spot."

The Van murmered on while Vicious tried to put the pieces together, the musicbox. It had been a gift from Julia, so he would remember her during the war. It held some meaning, of course, but this context seemed nonsensical. He didn't even know where the musicbox was right now, since he had given it to Gren back on Titan. The man liked music much more than he did, and Vicious might have wanted to give him something to remember him by, just like Julia, as thoughts of her were slowly pushed to the back of his mind by dreams of blue hair. Julia, who he didn't know he could trust anymore, but to whom he had returned, in the end, to keep his promises. And Gren, who was now in jail because of him. What did the musicbox have to do with any of that…? There had been no talk of that, just rumours of a hidden transmitter they had not been able to find. Suddenly, something clicked. Gren had always carried the music box with him, he'd told him. But it was a present from Julia, who had been acting strange lately. Who had been calling him at strange times, and seemed nervous, almost afraid. Vicious looked up at the Van, who looked back at him.

"There is unexpected irony here." The last corpse rumbled. "Passed on from lover to lover, and all because…"

There was silence again, the Van observed Vicious, Vicious tried to deny what he was seeing. Julia had given him a transmitter, which he had given to Gren. Julia had wanted him to go to jail, so she would be free of him, Julia hated him. He had unknowingly betrayed Gren in more ways than one. His world was falling down, and it was Julia who was at the middle of it.

"Vicious." The Van looked serious again, and Vicious realised what they had said, final proof that they knew what had happened between two soldiers in a desert war.

"I think you know what we are talking about when we say your behaviour on Titan has been unacceptable."

Vicious froze and clenched his hands into fists.

"You have cut off your wings, but this is not enough punishment for what you have done."

"We will finish what you have started and cut off your limbs as well."

All three Van glared at him.

"And you know what happens when a dragon loses it's limbs. All that remains is the cold heart of a snake."

It was cold, and silent, and so very lonely. Vicious slowly sat up in his sleeping bag and shivered. The nights were always colder, especially when there was no one to keep you company. Vicious frowned and looked around his small, shared tent. There was indeed no one beside him, but in the entrance of their temporary shelter, a silhouette sat against the sky, the clearest sky in weeks. A soft tinkling sound drifted into the tent as the figure turned around.

"Did I wake you up…?"

Gren talked softly, in the darkness it was hard to make out his face, but the dim starlight reflected on a metal object in his hands. Vicious nodded. The music had stopped.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to."

Gren crawled back inside, but didn't close the tent yet. He pointed at the sky.

"Look, a clear sky."

Vicious nodded again and looked at Gren, the music box in his hand.

"What were you looking for, up there?"

Gren smiled, Vicious could see the man's features more clearly now his eyes were getting used to the light.

"I was looking for falling stars. There is this legend… That a falling star is actually a tear of a warrior, falling as the warrior falls."

Vicious looked at the sky, the typical brownish Titan hue seemed to have thinned, and not only stars, but a station and a Gate were visible in the blue. There was no sound outside apart from a soft whispering of the sands.

"Now what are you staring at…?" Gren laughed softly.

"Do you see that hyperspace Gate?" Vicious pointed at the sky, and then moved his hand to the right. "Look to the right of it."

"Er… I see stars."

"Of course you do, that is the Lion."

Gren looked and smiled.

"I didn't know there were lions in space."

Vicious shook his head and lay back down, pulling the sleeping bag up to hide his smile. Gren looked down at him for a moment and then moved away. Vicious heard him close the tent and move back to his side, slipping into the sleeping bag attached to his own. The other man pushed the hair out of his face and looked him in the eyes.

"Now tell me what woke you up."

"…I was cold." Vicious looked back at Gren, who smiled again and moved closer to him inside their little room of canvas.

Vicious carefully pulled off his shirt. He had simply collapsed on his bed yesterday and over night, the blood had dried, which was making it rather painful to try and get it off. In the end, he simply ripped it off his back, going for fast where painless wasn't possible. The Van were anything but merciful, but this at least was a pain he could ignore, it was because of him, and it only affected him. It was even sort of relieving to have something physical to distract him, when his mind was running around in circles, from Julia to Gren, to the Van and back to Julia. From pain to guilt, more pain and anger. He knew he was slowly going insane, trapped in his house and inside his mind, so he decided to take a walk. He missed the time before the war, when he knew he had Julia, and he was only mildly surprised when he found himself in front of her appartment. Of course, he'd talk it out with her, maybe he could still save his sanity. He rang the bell next to her door. Maybe he should've called first, but he was acting on impulse, though he'd wanted to talk to her since that first phonecall of hers, none of this was planned out. But maybe if he'd called, he'd have known she wasn't home, and wouldn't have had to walk all the way to her place to find that out. He turned away from the door to leave and saw Julia walking down the street, her blond hair shining in the light. Vicious felt relief and concern at the same time as he noticed she wasn't alone. Was this the reason she'd wanted him gone, had she found another man? Julia was a beautiful woman, she could undoubtedly get anyone she wanted. A sort of shock overpowered the first two emotions though, when he saw the man next to his woman was his best friend. But no, Spike was Julia's friend too, although he would appeciate if he didn't hold her so close. They didn't seem to notice him until they were standing right in front of the steps leading up to Julia's door. Suddenly, Spike let go of Julia and for a moment, there was a tense silence before Spike snapped back into his usual cheerful behaviour and Julia walked up to her door, reaching around Vicious to open it, smiling her sweetest smile. They could act like nothing had happened, but something was wrong, and he would not forget. There was one thing they should remember, he might not be a dragon, but even a snake has fangs.


End file.
